Knight of the Dark Lady
by Jobrill
Summary: A Paladin Initiate is killed by the treachery of Arthas - and that is only the beginning of his story. One undead footsoldier's quest for redemption, set in The Frozen Throne and World of Warcraft time frames.


They were supposed to be the proudest days of my life. After years of training and sacrifice, I and a handful of other young initiates were to take the vows of the Paladin under the watchful eye of King Tereneas himself. To appear before the Master of Lordaeron and to be bestowed such an honor was what I had dreamed of since my days on my father's country estates.  
  
The week before my ceremony, as was the tradition, I stood guard in the Throne room along with the other initiates, arrayed along the walls like a circle of power against the enemys of Lordaeron and the King. It was then that a joyous cry went up in the city. Prince Arthas has returned from his crusades in the North! He had obviously defeated the Scourge and returned to report his victory. That I would soon be among his peers and fellow warriors in the Knighthood swelled my heart. The rumors of unrest and strife and ignored orders and commands and strained relationships bothered me not, nattering gossips that the common folk were. Feh! That I could have been so naive...  
  
From the moment he entered the throne room, my eyes locked on his sword. Evil looking runes carved into the long jagged blade seemed to emanate a coldness that permeated the air around me, striking deep into my soul. As Arthas kneeled in front of his father, I could not take my eyes off the blade, not even to register the strange air of his two companions, hooded and cloaked, in garb that looked nothing like any uniform of the army of Alliance.  
  
So mesmerized by the blade I was, I did not hear the words spoken between Arthas and his father until the prince rose, and stepped onto the dais, mere inches from his father, sword still drawn.  
  
"Arthas, what are you doing?" the King said.  
  
"Succeeding you father," the prince answered, and that sword, that mesmerizing metal monster, sung as it sunk into the flesh of our beloved King, and he slumped over, his crown clattering down the steps of the bloodspattered dais.  
  
All hell broke lose at that moment. All of us Initiates broke out of our stupors, but it was too late, the king was dead, and his confederates were now revealed for what they were: Not loyal Alliance footmen or knights, but Necromancers.  
  
One of them swept his staff over the hall, and from the ground itself sprouted what seemed to be a hundred skeletons. The other flung of a bolt of some dark energy straight at Elidan, and fell to the floor like a rag doll. The rest of us charged in. I remember little after that. I hacked and stabbed at the Skeletons with my polearm, and they seemed to fall easily. Eventually, I think I even carved a path to the dais where Arthas stood screaming about a  
  
new order rising from the ashes. He noticed me before I could even shout a challenge, and cuffed me upside the head with a spiked gauntlet, not even allowing me the honor of combat with that unholy sword of his.  
  
As my head hit a sharp edge of the stairs, I lost all feeling in my body, but through rapidly blurring vision I saw the doors of the throne room burst to splinters, and through it pour all matters of ghouls and ghost and creatures of nightmare.  
  
I floated in an endless, void, naked. In front of me, a point of light shown, and I moved toward it.  
  
Then a Howl sounded around me, and I closed my eyes and clasped my hands over my ears, but the sound continued unabated. then It seemed as if burning tendrils tore at my flesh and wrapped around my wrists and ankles like chains to hold them fast, and I screamed til my voice matched the volume and timbre of the howl.  
  
***  
  
I "awoke" what seemed a short time later, only to find myself a prisoner in my own body. I was in a darkened forest surrounded by spartan buildings of twisted steel and glowing green lights with no noticable source, some surrounded by dead, decaying bodies, some topped by globes of green energy, one entwisting a cave entrance, surrounded by robed men chanting in some unknown language, one floating in the sky above, larger than the rest, and it seemed that from it came a voice that sounded in my ears until it was so loud it overpowered all else.  
  
Gather...Harvest...Obey...Serve....  
  
I knew that voice. It was Arthas. Arthas, that bloody traitor, that patricide, who had not even given me the honor of combat. I would never bow to him! I tried to fight it, to run from the nightmare, but my legs would not obey me. I tried to scream, but the sound came out as a horrifying rasping roar that could not be uttered by anything human. The voice pounded me.  
  
GATHER. HARVEST. OBEY. SERVE.  
  
No.  
  
NO!  
  
I groaned in agony as I tried to keep my legs from moving. Screamed as the pain of resistance wracked my body. NO! I would not give in to that regicide, that traitor, that dog! My mind, body, and soul were my own. He would not have them. He would not-  
  
OBEY.  
  
I ran, where I not knew. A Tree stood in front of me, and I pawed at it with my hands. But the hands that appeared before me were not my own. red and gray spotted, corded with muscles larger than any human would have, fingers topped with long bloodstained claws sharp as steel, they tore into the tree easily. It toppled over, and a voice spoke:  
  
CARRY.  
  
***  
  
So, from proud paladin I had gone to a drudge, a zombified corpse built to harvest. Tree after tree I carried away until the whole forest was razed and the black twisted steel buildings ruled over the landscape to every horizon.  
  
I eventually stopped even trying to fight the voice, but instead passively watched as my body loped along. I grew to enjoy my newfound speed and strength. Never before had I run so fast, lifted so much, tired so little, despite all my squire's training.  
  
Then came the first Interlopers. Into the midst of our stronghold came a human, clad in silver armor, carrying a large warhammer. At his back were a dozen footmen and a dozen more stout dwarven riflemen, shouting a warcry as they charged.  
  
DEFEND. DESTROY. The voice urged me on, and I noted my brother Ghouls running besides as we ran towards the interlopers. Already the Crypt Lords' strands had taken down a footman, and two giant Abominations had smashed three riflemen til they looked no different than the corpses littering the nearby graveyard. The Necromancers cast thier rites, and the corpses arose as the skeleton warriors from my other life, now my allies.  
  
DESTROY.  
  
With three other ghouls, I swarmed the Paladin. A Blast of holy light blew one of my... comrades... away, but my claws tore through the silvered armor as they tore through the trees I had been harvesting.  
  
The bloodlust overtook me then, and the part of me that was still a Paladin Initiate blacked out.  
  
***  
  
DESTROY. HARVEST. SUCCUMB. KILL.  
  
The voice urged me on, as we moved from place to place, always consuming and destroying. We would tear up a human settlement, shatter the houses with our claws, and load the corpses of it's former inhabitants - those we did not tear apart in our attacking frenzy - into the meat wagons to swell the army of the Lich King.  
  
***  
  
DESTROY. GATHER. HARVEST.  
  
DESTroy. GAthER. HArveST. SUCCUMB.  
  
DESTroy. harv-est. su  
  
The voice had faltered... and stopped? I threw down the bundle of lumber I carried, suddenly confused. Around me, the green lights in the towers and buildings lost some of thier glow. Slowly, I tried something I had not tried in a quite a while. I tried to move of my own accord. I raised my hand to my eyes and waved it about. Then... slowly, ever so slowly, I raised both hands from the ground... unbent my waist. I stood like a man.  
  
Yes. It was true. Arthas had weakened. He could no longer hold me!  
  
But... what was I to do? Lordaeron had been overthrown. Surely there was no- one human left. But undead, undead like us, there would be plenty.  
  
Yet, again... how would we know if they had been released too? Maybe Arthas had only lost control on our outpost. Maybe even now hundreds of Ghouls, Necromancers and Meatwagons sped towards us to wipe out the abberant colony. Worse still, maybe Arthas would reach out with his mind and bend us again, and it would be back to the harvest, back to the kill.  
  
No, I could not let that happen. I had to run, I had to leave. But where?  
  
Wait. Grand Marshall Garithos. I remembered, we had fought his forces only a week before at a small hamlet only a few miles away. He had driven us back then, perhaps he was still there. Surely my fellow knights would welcome me back into the fold. Surely they knew that none had been my fault, that it had been Arthas' foul necromancy. They would accept me again, and perhaps if any with the power still remained, I would recieve the Paladinic rites yet.  
  
I strode out of the outpost and towards the small village. No-one stopped me, for they too were confused with thier new-found "freedom." As I passed the rotting corpse of a knight we had killed only the day before, I tore off his cloak and wrapped it around me... only to hide my features. I knew my brethern would need some convincing, even if they would ultimately accept me. And they would accept me.  
  
I approached the outer guard tower just before dusk.  
  
"Halt, who goes there?" A Footman shouted from his guard post at the base of the tower.  
  
"A friend, back from a long journey. I must see your commander, something has happened," I shouted back, then reflexively clasped my hand over my mouth in horror. The voice, while Intelligible, had a rough, rasping quality that sounded nothing like my own. But it WAS my own, now.  
  
"You... have a strange accent indeed, friend, if friend you are. Remove your cloak that I may gaze upon your face and alliance crest and be assured of your goodwill."  
  
I threw off my cloak then, and the footman screamed.  
  
"F...Foul Demon! Get...get...away from here monster, or I shall strike you down where you stand!" He said.  
  
"No, no, You don't understand," I began, sure he would listen to reason, "Arthas has somehow lost his power over me. I am of my full right mind now, and I am ready to rejoin the alliance! I am Dalakar Daystar, Son of Duke Enabrin Daystar, Initiate of the Bronze Hammer. I was to be ordained a Paladin on-"  
  
"Paladin? Do not blaspheme that holy order by uttering it's name! You are one of Arthas' scourge! We will not stand your foul taint upon the lands, spawn of the Leigon! In the name of Humanity, you will die!" said the footman, and he charged me.  
  
I had no choice. I swiped at him with my claws, and he fell to the ground, screaming and clutching at his face where I had struck. I grabbed his short sword from the ground and ran off into the woods again. I was wrong. They would not accept me back. Surely, I had thought, surely the alliance was noble. Surely it would accept it's fallen son back into it's bosom. It could not be. No. There must be someone.  
  
Then I remembered. My Father kept a hunting lodge only a few miles east of where I stood. Perhaps... perhaps it still stood. Perhaps If one of the family was staying there, hiding from Arthas... I gripped the short sword in my teeth and dropped to all fours, I could run faster that way. I ran all through the night, never stopping, never feeling tired. As dawn broke, I reached the edge of the forest. Yes, it was still untouched by the scourge. Perhaps... just perhaps. I reached the lodge less than half an hour later. I stood again, and, after a second, spit the short sword on the ground. I would come before whoever might be there unarmed, to show my trust.  
  
The door was locked, so I pounded on it.  
  
"Who goes there?" said a voice from inside. It was my father!  
  
"Father! It's me, Dalakar!" I shouted.  
  
"Dalakar? No. My son was murdered by that father-killing bastard Arthas. You don't even sound like him. I don't know who you are, stranger, but go away and let an old man mourn the failure of civilization in peace."  
  
"No...It's me, father. Arthas... enslaved me. He...did something to me...It has changed my voice, among other things. But I have broken free!"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Father, remember when we went to the capital city of Lordaeron together for the first time? For that council of lords, when you wanted me to start learning the duties of a Duke of Lordaeron? We went to the King's Throne room, and I saw a boy my age standing by the King. I waved to him, and he waved back, but then you placed a hand on my shoulder and steered me away. We were walking to our guest quarters later, and I asked you, I said father, who was that boy by the king's throne? And you answered, that is prince Arthas. Mark him well, boy, for one day he shall be your King. I said that he looked sad, like he needed a friend, and you said that Kings never had friends, only flatterers and slaves."  
  
"Hrm. Well, I suppose only Dalakar would know that. Let me take a look at you, boy. It will be good to know that one of my sons had the fortitude to win through the end of the world."  
  
I heard movement inside, and a latch being undone. The door opened, and my father stood there, dressed in his hunting leathers, his prized walnut- stocked rifle in hand, looking thinner and gaunter and grayer than last I had seen him, but as regal and imperious as ever, even in the midst of ruin.  
  
I threw back the hood of my cloak.  
  
"You...you have some small resemblance to my son...but that pallour is not seen on any living. I kill your kind on sight, Ghoul, you were unwise to come here," my father said, but he did not raise his gun.  
  
"Father, Arthas did kill me," I said, "but then he raised me, raised me to be a footsoldier in his army. I could not help it, it was as if I looked on from a tiny corner of my brain as his will bent my body to do what he wanted. But only yesterday, the voice ceased. I am myself again, I am in control. I've changed, but I'm still your son, father! There is a small struggling outpost of humans only half a day's journey away. Together we can go to them and tell them of what happened, we can join with them, build a new alliance. Perhaps we can even help the others like me who were freed from Arthas' control!"  
  
"Controlled, by Arthas?"  
  
"Yes, for too long. But the Nightmare is over-"  
  
"No."  
  
"Father?"  
  
"No Son of mine would be so weak-willed as to be overtaken by charms and sorcery. No-one can control you without your consent, I taught that to every one of my children as soon as they were old enough to understand it. Despite our ties to the King, we Daystars have always been proud and independent. Never would we yoke ourselves to such as Arthas, even by coercion of magic! If you were my Son, you would have resisted!"  
  
"I...I tried to... Father. It was too much! With every fiber of my being I tried, but my body was not my own! I could not resist father, no-one could!"  
  
"No. Nothing is Impossible. 'can not' does not exist, only 'did not.'"  
  
"Father?" I did not know what to say. It seemed impossible. I knew what he believed... It was what I believed too... but against a power like the Lich King, surely he could see... surely he could know...  
  
"My heart is too heavy to slay you tonight, Ghoul, and You will not find what you seek here. Leave, and godspeed."  
  
***  
  
I vaguely remember grabbing the short sword and stumbling back into the forest, thoughts roaring through my head. My own father, rejecting me. Surely, surely he was wrong, he didn't understand. HE hadn't had that voice in his head. He WAS wrong. Wasn't he? There was no way I could have wished for that, enjoyed that! No way I could have enjoyed the savage slaughter of Innocents and the unsleeping power flowing through my veins. No way. No. The Alliance should have accepted me. Should have. How could they have forsaken me, a fellow pilgrim, lost on a sea of sorrow? Had I not suffered as much as they had at the hands of Arthas, and more? I had not even been given the privlege of a final death!  
  
I stared at the short sword, but I still shuddered at the thought of self- slaughter. I would keep the precepts of the Paladin, even if they would no longer have me. Besides, I had died once already, I did not care to try it again.  
  
Perhaps I could search for other human settlements, maybe one of them... No, if my own father... No, the humans had forsaken me, that was clear. Why had I ever believed in the nobility of thier race? Why had I ever counted myself proud to be one of them? Bigoted, paranoid, arrogant, selfish, weak, softskinned BASTARDS.  
  
I knew not what else to do. I made my way back to the others of my kind who had broken free of Arthas. As I crossed back into the outpost, I saw little had changed. Like me, they all wandered about in a stupor, some hunched on the ground mumbling incoherently, some filing in and out of the buildings as if they would find thier salvation hidden in a dusty corner somewhere, some simply standing and staring off into space. None of us knew what to do.  
  
Then we heard a new voice.  
  
I know your pain. I know your sorrow. I too was betrayed and murdered by Arthas. I too have broken free. I too have been forsaken by those I thought friend and ally.  
  
Looking for the source of the voice, I saw a woman walk into the camp. I recognized the garb she wore as that of the Elven Rangers of Quel'Thalas that I had seen sometimes in the marketplaces and garrisons of the capital. But I noted that she too had the sickly pallour of the undead that we all shared, and her bow radiated a dark energy unlike any I had seen in the bow of any other ranger.  
  
I am Sylvanas Windrunner, once Ranger-General of Quel'Thalas. Join me, my friends, and together we will repay those who have betrayed us and forsaken us, together we will forge a new place in the world. Together we shall reign supreme.  
  
I did not resist this voice. Already, the forces of the Burning Leigon haved payed for thier role in enslaving us. One of thier chief Dread Lords feels the chain of Slavery himself because of the power and cunning of the Dark Lady, and I was there myself when she destroyed the other two who stood against us, and when Garithos paid the price for forsaking us who were once loyal allies and dupes to his glorious alliance.  
  
Sylvanas has given us new life and a new purpose. We are now a power to be reckoned with, and those few who remain in the Kingdom of Lordaeron speak of The Forsaken in hushed whispers of awe...and fear.  
  
I was never ordained a Paladin by the hand of any Mortal, but Paladin I am now. Our enemies call me a Death Knight, and in some ways, they are right, for I do bring Death most glorious to those who betrayed us and forsook us.  
  
But I am a Paladin of Sylvanas Windrunner, the most noble and holy order ever to exist in the history of all worlds.  
  
I am Sir Dalakar Daystar, Paladin of the Dark Lady. I bow only to her. All others, I destroy. Submit to your destiny, for I ride forth, and not even the gates of the Frozen Throne nor of Hell itself will stand fast before my might. 


End file.
